Child of Mine
by notsing
Summary: Don deals with his grief, shortly after Margaret's death. I do not own Numb3rs.


Child of Mine

_What the? How did he end up here? _ Don felt anxious, he KNEW he had meant to go to his apartment, yet here he was in Pasadena. He had absolutely no memory of driving here. Had he obeyed the traffic laws? He scanned his rearview mirror and listened for sounds of sirens, but there was no evidence of area cops looking for one demented driver.

He wiped sweaty hands on his blue-jeans, and rested his head back against the neckbrace. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had been alone without a huge list of things to do in . . . forever. He felt limp, totally washed out.

Margaret Mann Eppes' life had ended a little over two weeks ago, and her son couldn't feel anything. He was just numb. The weeks leading up to her death had been horrendous. Everyone could see the count-down (well, not Charlie, Charlie was hiding in the garage). There was a horrible sense of wanting to hold on to every precious second, and yet wanting the suffering to end.

More than once Don had thought that if she was an animal, they would have put his mother to sleep already. Then he felt guilty for thinking such a thing. This was his MOTHER for God's sake. But she was in so much pain. It was hard to see her in all that pain. He just wanted her released from all the torment, and death was the only release she was going to get.

Don and Alan had been at the hospital around the clock for the last days of Margaret's life. Don kept trying to convince his dad to go home, get a shower, a nap, fresh clothes. Alan had resisted until finally Don made a deal-Don would go home for a couple of hours, come back, then Dad would go home.

It was shortly after Dad left that Mom suddenly woke up in a tizzy, "Oh, it's 7:30! I have to go! It's time for me to go!" Don looked at his watch and saw his mother was right, it was 7:30. But how could she know that? She couldn't see a clock.

He tried to calm her, "Mom, it's alright. I'm here."

She turned to him, "Donnie! I have to go! Please, you have to let me go!"

Don huskily assured her, "If you want to go Mom, it's okay. You can go."

And just like that she went.

Don was operating on autopilot in the days following his mother's death. He made the arrangements, tried to be a rock for Alan, and gently bullied Charlie out of the garage.

The week after her death, Don went back to work. He needed to get his life back to normal, or something that at least could pass for normal. Whenever he could, he slipped back to Pasadena to check on Alan and Charlie. Finally, last Friday, Charlie announced he was going back to work on Monday. And Dad said he was going golfing with Stan on Monday.

Don had busy on a case all week-end, and hadn't been able to swing by the craftsman, but they had wrapped the case up late last night, and he had stayed at the office to finish up the paperwork. Terry had come in, taken one look at him, and bluntly told Don to go home, shower, shave, eat, and sleep.

It had actually sounded like good advice, so Don had taken off, fully intending to go to his apartment. But somehow, he found himself at his childhood home midmorning on Monday.

_Dad and Charlie should both be gone, he thought._

He wavered, wondering if he should follow his original plan and drive to his apartment after all. On the other hand, he was already here, he might as well stay. Don slid out of his SUV, and walked carefully to the garage, half expecting to find Charlie there. But the garage was blessedly empty.

Don retraced his steps and using his key let himself into the front door, where he shocked himself by yelling, "Mom?" He stood there by the door, stunned, wondering what was wrong with him? First he drove to Pasadena without meaning to, and then he called for a dead woman.

He had a moment's panic, worrying Dad or Charlie was actually there, and would be convinced he was losing it. However, the house FELT empty. The only sound seemed to be his own voice, echoing back at him, 'mom...mom...mom.' He knew he was imaging it, the house didn't echo.

For a second, he thought, feared, he was going to hear HER voice, calling back to him, "In the kitchen, Donnie!" Of course, there was only silence.

Don slowly entered the house, closing the door behind him. For some reason, the house felt alien and strange. _Haunted?_ The late morning sun slanted through the windows, but Don shivered, feeling cold and alone. It wasn't the first time he felt cold and alone in this house.

_When Don was eight, he become aware of his parents having hushed conversations about Charlie. Then, his mother had gently explained to him that his brother was special, he was a genius. She told him Charlie was going to have a tutor come and work with him on math. Don had actually felt sorry for Charlie-three-years-old, and having to do math!_

_Then, one day after school, Don was hurrying home from the bus stop. It was rainy and chilly, and he was looking forward to getting home where the lights would glow warmly and his mother would have an after-school snack waiting for him. His pesky little brother would also be waiting for him, but that was okay. They would eat their snack together, and Don would tell Mom and Charlie all about his day. _

_But when he got home, the house was dark, and there was no Mom or Charlie waiting for him. Don stood on the area rug-mustn't track through the house-and yelled out "MOM!" There came a noise from upstairs, and then Mom came down the steps and stopped at the landing, "Donnie! what's wrong with you? The tutor's here and you're interrupting your brother's lesson! Now hush! You're a big boy! Act like it!"_

_She then turned and marched back up the stairs, leaving her son stunned and staring. A big boy? He didn't feel like a big boy. He felt very small, alone, wet, and miserable. He struggled out of his rain-gear, then went into the kitchen to find something to eat._

_Afterwards he crept upstairs. Mom, Charlie and the tutor were in the solarium. Don listened for a minute, but he didn't understand what they were talking about. He felt ashamed and stupid that his three-year-old brother could understand such hard stuff._

_Don went to his own room quietly, did his homework, then got out some comic books. He heard his mother and brother walking the tutor out of the house. Then he heard Charlie racing up the stairs yelling, "Donnie!"_

_Don buried his nose in the comic book and tried to pretend he hadn't heard his brother. But Charlie was determined. He banged on Don's door, then opened it yelling, "Donnie! I had my first lesson! The tutor says I'm really smart!"_

_Don shrugged, "So?"_

_"So now I get to have an after-tutoring snack! Just like you have an after-school snack!" said Charlie, puffing out his small chest proudly._

_Don kept his eyes glued to the comic book, "That's nice."_

_Charlie's small face fell, "Aren't you going to have a snack with us?"_

_"No," said Don shortly. "Will you please leave? I'm busy." He ignored the hurt look on Charlie's face. It wasn't long after Charlie left that Mom came to his door._

_"Donnie? Don't you want a snack? I'm making hot chocolate. Don't you want some?"_

_It did sound good, but Don wasn't going to admit it. Instead, he said he wasn't hungry. _

_Don became accustomed in the following years to taking care of himself, and being alone. Usually he didn't mind being alone in the house, but occasionally, it was creepy._

_There was that one time, when he was thirteen, and he spent all afternoon and evening by himself. Charlie was getting some kind of honor, again, and Mom and Dad expected to only be gone for a few hours. They decided Don would be okay by himself. He was really, he took care of himself (was still too young to have a wild party), and didn't damage the house._

_But the honor banquet lasted much longer than anticipated, and as night fell Don got just a little. . . spooked. To distract himself he played a game he had slowly developed over the years. Don would sneak around in his parents' stuff, trying to make sure he left no evidence that he had been snooping. Don could ALWAYS tell when Charlie had been through his stuff. Charlie may be smart, but he wasn't sly._

_Don prided himself on being much more clever than his brainy kid-brother. Don NEVER got caught, never left any sign that someone had been snooping. He had systematically explored his parents' bedroom already, and had started on their possessions left in the more open areas of the house. Of course, he had never been forbidden to search this stuff, and since it was left out in the open it was probably permitted, but Don didn't want anyone to KNOW._

_He had already searched through his mom and dad's books, and along with some dusty lawbooks, had found a book of dirty limericks (which his friends enjoyed, and thought he made up himself) and an old copy of Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask (the Kama Sutra was in the bedroom)._

_This time he started exploring Mom and Dad's old relics called record albums, which they still played on an old turntable. Front and center were the Beatles, of course, followed by the Stones. Don took a minute to play with the zipper on Sticky Fingers, but would have been a lot more interested if the hips had belonged to a female._

_The Who and the Doors came next, and for some mysterious reason, the Yardbirds, the Cream, and Blind Faith were put together. Finally, there were a number of records where there was only one record by the artist. It was while looking at these that Don stumbled across a record with a really HOT chick on the cover. _

_Don had never heard of Carly Simon, but it was no secret that she had really NICE tits! And for that reason, and no other (and what better reason could there be for a thirteen-year-old boy?), he decided to fire up the antique record player and listen to it._

_He recognized one song immediately, some stupid song about clouds in coffee. Mom and Dad ALWAYS sang along when it came on the radio, then ALWAYS argued who the song was about-Mick Jagger or Warren Beatty. Don wondered who could possibly care? Both men were disgusting, wrinkly old fogeys. _

_Looking at the cover of No Secrets, it was hard to reconcile the beautiful woman in the picture with either old fart. Don was about ready to give up on Carly when one song captured his attention. It was written about her father dying, but the line that hit Don like a sledge hammer went 'I pretended not to notice I'd been abandoned.'_

_Oh God, he could relate. Don had become VERY good at pretending not to notice he had been abandoned. Don had listened to that song, that line, over and over again. He started crying, and not just a few tears. He curled up in the fetal position, and bawled over the unfairness of his life._

_Part of him knew he was being over-dramatic-he was loved, and his needs were taken care of. But still, Don felt overlooked, pushed aside, made to constantly take a back-seat to Charlie. It hurt. Sometimes, the hurt had to come out._

_When he finally regained control, Don was terrified his family would suddenly come home and find him like crying. He hastily put the records up in the order he found them (part of the rules of his game-leave no trace), and ran upstairs to get a quick shower. _

_It was while he was in the shower that the spooky feeling returned. There's just something about being wet and naked in a house alone that brings fears of intruders. Don rushed through the shower, then hurried getting dried before slipping on sweat pants and a T-shirt._

_Then he checked the doors again, yep, still locked. He even checked the basement door. Why Don had a fear of someone (or something) coming up through the basement, he didn't know, but it always made him feel better to know the door was locked._

_Don raided the refrigerator while he was in the kitchen (no one to tell him he couldn't drink out of the milk carton), then wondered around the house, restless. He was anxious for his family to come home, disliking being by himself after so many hours. However, he didn't want his family to know he had been uneasy. He was a teenager, for crying out loud, and could take care of himself._

_When he finally heard the family car in the driveway, he flew upstairs to his room, grabbed a book, flopped on his bed, and tried to look like he had been there for hours. He listened to the commotion of Mom, Dad and Charlie coming in, then Dad yelling, "Hello?"_

_"Up here!" he called back, then Charlie came running up the steps yelling, "Donnie? I got an award, and we ate at the banquet. It was good! Do you want to see my award?"_

_"Not really," muttered Don, too aware of the PBJ that had been HIS supper. _

_"Donnie?" Mom was at his door, looking anxious. "I'm sorry we're so late. Are you starved? I'll fix you something. What sounds good? A sandwich?"_

_"I'm fine," he answered shortly, and tried to ignore the hurt look on her face. What right did she have to be hurt? HE was the one who had been abandoned._

Don came back to the present abruptly. He wished he could have a do-over. Mom had been wanting to coddle him, to give him some attention. But at the time it had felt like being offered crumbs after Charlie had been given the lion's share. He would gladly accept those crumbs now.

He knew his parents hadn't meant to neglect him, they were simply overwhelmed. He also knew that, ironically, the family had depended on HIM to function. If he had been as needy and helpless as Charlie, they would have floundered.

His parents, especially his mother, had needed him to be independent and strong. His mother had known he could be, because he took after HER. Charlie may have spent the most time with Margaret, but Don had inherited her iron will and strength. It was both a curse and a blessing.

Don knew, deep in his bones, that it was no accident the his mother had waited until Dad was gone and it was just Don there to die. Don was the one who could handle it; not Alan, and definitely not her overprotected, cosseted genius.

Because he was the strong one, Don had both the burden and the privilege of being present when Margaret breathed her last breath.

The album was right about where he remembered, after the Beatles, Stones, Who, Doors, and the Eric Clapton bands. Carly was still as smoking hot as he remembered, but he had a lot more control over his hormones now.

This time he realized what the song was really about, a bereft child missing a dead parent. It wasn't the line about being abandoned that struck him this time, but the chorus:

_Embrace me you child, you're a child of mine/ And I'm leaving everything I am to you._


End file.
